As the audience squelched and dripped its way into the interior of the Coliseum for English National Opera’s opening night of Tosca, a vague hope that the heat of revolutionary Rome in 1800 might sear away the vestiges of the squall was balanced against the known inclinations of Christof Loy – directing this production of Puccini’s shabby little shocker – towards sets of monochromatic boxes. Surprisingly, however, Loy’s concept, first seen at the Finnish National Opera back in those halcyon pre-pandemic days of 2018, is unusually appealing to the eye.
To ensure that everyone realises that ENO is ‘hip’, we were first given a poem from the stage by Kieron Rennie which, for me at least, did not lend anything to the evening save to further extend the time spent at the Coliseum. The curtain then rose to reveal the interior of a basilica: the shrine to the Madonna at the side bedecked with flowers, Cavaradossi’s easel in the centre. Plenty of grey, true, but Christian Schmidt’s set designs are attractive and well-considered; the vast open spaces of the basilica and Scarpia's rooms in the Palazzo Farnese are contrasted with Cavaradossi’s diminutive cell in Act 3 before the backdrop rises again to show the top of the Castel Sant'Angelo, a welcome change from the Star Wars chic of ENO’s previous production of this piece.
Loy’s production does not wholly hit all the right notes. His decision to lean on sartorial anachronisms is unconvincing. The costumes initially look as though derived from the first half of the 20th century before Scarpia strides on in a full 19th-century tunic. Further complicating matters, we then get appearances from the chorus in what looks to be 18th-century garb. Loy seems to be reaching for a cultural clash, the modernism of Cavaradossi’s ideals versus the buttoned layered corsetry of Scarpia’s tyranny, or perhaps a comment on the timelessness of oppression, the battle for freedom and the subjugation of women, but it was clumsily executed and under-explored.
Likewise, the deployment of a painted curtain backdrop, particularly noticeable when it draws across the stage as Act 2 climaxes, felt like an idea not fully thrashed out: is this just a performance for Tosca the opera singer? Does the closing of the curtain symbolise the closure of life? The production veers more towards vagueness than strategic ambiguity. That said, what the production lacks in conceptual clarity is compensated by some high quality Personenregie. Loy’s direction of his characters is spot on, from the high-octane romance of Cavaradossi and Tosca down to the sanctimonious Sacristan, a bumbling busybody bustling around the stage with a watering can, a recognisable figure from every small village or work place.
Loy benefited from a cast that entirely committed itself to the drama of the piece, even in the face of the viral disaster that struck our Scarpia, Noel Bouley. Voice felled by illness, he walked the part with total commitment while Roland Wood, flown in at short notice, sang from the side. Taking the title role was Sinéad Campbell-Wallace who brought tremendous psychological depth to Tosca. What a pleasure to see such quality of acting; emotion started at her eyes, radiating out to her face and then through the body, visually conveying so much even when not singing. Campbell-Wallace gives us a glamorous and fiery diva, yet so distinctly insecure and perhaps unstable, roaring from zero to a sixty of paranoid hysteria in under five seconds. Campbell-Wallace’s soprano is secure at the top and we were given some beautiful pianissimi, but where she really impressed was the colouring of the voice. The words “she’s so forgiving” in Act 1 were sung with such gleeful mischief while “Vissi d'arte” was achingly sung.
Adam Smith’s easy charm and energetic stage presence made him a natural companion on stage as Cavaradossi. His tenor voice is a tad dry, but his forays into the higher register were absolutely secure, top notes sustained and generously delivered. Diction was not always perfect, but it was a thrilling performance nonetheless. Roland Wood’s saturnine baritone was a good fit for Scarpia; unsurprisingly, as he had the score in front of him, his diction was precise, but Wood really made something of the text and his Te deum was vividly sung. John Findon was a slimy Spoletta while the bafflingly shirtless Msimelelo Mbali brought desperation to Angelotti. Leading the house band in the pit, Leo Hussain gave a punchy reading of the score; subtle it was not – a couple of moments in Act 2 would have benefitted from slightly more restraint – but this is a piece that cries out for bold, dynamic playing and the orchestra delivered this in spades. A satisfying evening and a strong musical beginning to ENO’s new season.
